Stealthing [mile 1982.4; SOBO 964]
Worst stealth job ever—at least since the last worst stealth job. Boy Scouts just walked past and said, “Somebody’s camping right there!” If a citizen decides to report me, I’m at the mercy of the court.
It’s a dilemma. Camping’s been permitted so far, and I was aiming for a site I knew about—but when I got there, there were NO CAMPING signs all over the place because it’s hunting season. I couldn’t make it as far as the next shelter. Bad options all around: stealth and go deeper into the gamelands (where people are shooting), or follow the regular camping rules and hope nobody decides to ticket me. I decided that ticketed was better than shot. And there’s no hunting on Sundays, I don’t think, so the shooting risk drops soon.
I don’t like this part of hiking in Pennsylvania.
This was a strange, strange day. My real practice on the AT has been from Dan’s Pulpit to the Pinnacle, with a few trips on either side to as far as Port Clinton. Today I did the chunk I know. Connect the dots!
The last time I was here it was hot, summer, and flooded. In fact, I’ve never hiked here this late in the year. Without the leaves on the trees the forest is much less dense. All the creeks were dry today except two, and I fell into one of them. Thank GOD, because my shoes were almost dry! Can’t let that happen! 😉
At around noon I passed the side trail near the Eckville shelter, th one that leads to the Game Commission parking lot. That’s where I park when I come up here. Four-tenths of a mile to my car, then an hour and a quarter to my couch.
But no! My car wasn’t down there. And from that moment on, every step takes me farther away.
As of tomorrow, I think I’ll be under 200 miles to go.
Right at the point I was closest to my house I looked down and saw a snakeskin. How weird and serendipitous is that?
Tomorrow: Town. Or potentially jail.